


Delivering The Goods

by Pyrasaur



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-13
Updated: 2009-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrasaur/pseuds/Pyrasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Kumatora needs to know where babies come from. Unfortunately, the Magypsies aren't the best ones to teach her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivering The Goods

     Kumatora been wondering about it for a few hours, by the time she got to Aeolia's house and kicked the worst of the mud off her boots. The Magypsies threw such a fit when she got mud on the carpet. Pretty stupid, since they were having one of their parties again and how were mud masks any better than swamp muck? Phrygia always got hers all over the bedspread when she nodded off, anyway.     

 Kumatora shoved open the big shell-glossy door -- she'd gotten taller over the summer so it was easier now -- and she met the same fluffy, girly scene as always.  
     "Kumatora, darling," Doria trilled, smiling over her drying pedicure, "You're just in time!"  
     She wrinkled her nose. "I don't want any girl stuff."  
     They laughed their twinkling laughs at her.  
     "Oh, come now," Aeolia said, glancing up from Ionia's hot rollers. "Wouldn't you like some braids in your hair?"  
     "They'd look wonderful on you, dear," Ionia added.  
     She'd been thinking to hack all her hair off, actually, since it just got in the way of everything. But ... braids did look kind of cool. Kumatora picked her way through all the makeup and lotion bottles on the floor. "Yeah, I guess. Can you make it the twisty kind?" Those ones coiled up the best and looked like ninja ropes.  
     "The same ones as last time? Of course! I'm something of an expert at those! Have a seat here, Kumatora, that's a good girl."  
     She plopped down between Aeolia's shiny high heels. The first few passes of the hairbrush caught on leaves -- or sticks or whatever was in Kumatora's hair -- and yanked pretty bad, but after that all she had to do was sit there and be petted. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, she guessed.  
     "You have such beautiful hair! Not a split end in sight!" Aeolia's fingers ran over her scalp like she was playing in sand. "But I suppose that's how it is for young humans, how old are you now? Twenty-four?"  
     "I'm _eight_."  
     "Oh, twenty-four, eight, it's all the same, really!"  
     "Enjoy it while it lasts," Mixolydia commented, not looking up from whatever sparkly stuff she was adding to Lydia's nails.

The only reason Magypsies knew anything, Kumatora was pretty sure, was because they'd been around for a million billion years and you couldn't live that long without finding things out. She frowned. She might as well ask her question instead of wondering to herself forever.  
     "Hey, you guys got me when I was little, right?"  
     "Yes, you were just a tiny baby," Ionia said, fussing at a roller, "You had the most adorable face!"  
     "Okay, so where did I come from?"

A pause settled over the room. Kumatora twisted her dress hem while she waited.  
     "You didn't have any parents when we got you." This was one of those things that Ionia just had to explain; she turned to face Kumatora better, expression softening. "We don't know what happened to them."  
     "The poor dear things," Doria agreed.  
     "No, I mean, what _makes_ a baby, anyway? Do they just ... show up?"  
     Another pause. Mixy and Lydia murmured like secrets. Hot flush was creeping into Kumatora's face and she shouldn't have asked the question, anyway, it was probably pretty stupid.  
     "Well." Ionia folded her hands in her lap. "They don't just appear like we Magypsies did, no."  
     "They grow in lettuce patches," Doria said, "Don't they? Or maybe it was cabbage."  
     "No, of course not! Kumatora, sweetie, it starts when a human man and a human woman love each other very much."  
     "They've got the most unusual way of showing it," Aeolia added, braids slowly tightening toward Kumatora's neck, "They get each other coffee, over and over."  
     Lydia peeked around Mixy. "That's why? I thought the woman swelled up because--"  
     "No, the drinks do it, don't be silly. They go on dates and drink a lot of coffee until the woman is a great round thing."  
     "And then," Ionia went on, "They have a beautiful wedding ceremony with flowers and cake."  
     Doria dabbed dramatically at her eyes. "I always cry at weddings! They're so boring, it's dreadful!"  
     "The bride wears a white dress. White is the purest and most powerful of colours."  
     "It means she has a bun in the oven, as well," Aeolia added. Her hand wandered toward the enormously lacy hair ribbons, at least until Kumatora held up some normal blue ribbons and cleared her throat. "Humans always dress their bakers in white."  
     "And then," Ionia said, "After all those meal preparations, the man and woman retreat to a newly built home for their time alone."

Judging by the nodding all around, that was that. Kumatora watched Ionia, thinking it all over, a frown scrunching her face up. "Alone?"  
     "They need to be, to summon the stork. Birds are so skittish."  
     "I don't see why they need to bake buns specifically for that, though," Aeolia fretted, and dropped a bow-tipped braid over Kumatora's shoulder. "Storks like fish better."  
     "Humans can be mysterious," Ionia agreed, "In their own small ways. But once the stork arrives for coffee and buns, that's when a new little human arrives."  
     Kumatora hummed dubiously. Ionia suddenly paid a lot of attention to unwinding the curlers and testing her hair's springiness.  
     "So ... the stork carries people's babies around? Where does the stork get them?"  
     "The stork brings a delivery. So, the baby comes from ... erm, somewhere else."  
     "I knew they came from cabbage patches," Doria murmured.  
     This whole thing sounded weird, like it was accidentally smashed and glued back together. Five times. And the person putting it back together was wearing boxing gloves.  
     "... Really?"  
     Ionia glanced to the other Magypsies, and they all twittered yes, of course Kumatora darling lovely-poo. Damnit, she told them not to call her _-poo_ anything. Kumatora folded her arms and glowered.  
     "Like I'd believe all that crap. If you guys don't know where babies come from, you should just say so!"  
     At least Ionia looked guilty. She fluffed her newly bouncy hair. "It's true, we haven't actually seen it happen."  
     Phrygia offered, in middle of a yawn, "Not because we haven't tried, though."  
     More twitters of agreement.  
     "Kumatora, there are some things we can't teach you. Maybe it would be best if you asked another human."

Another human, huh? Kumatora went to the mirror to settle her braids into proper ninja princess order, and by the time she was done, she knew exactly who to ask.

He had always known the day would come when his teachings were needed. Somewhere in the time-honed depths of Wess's warrior spirit, he sensed that today was a day of destiny; he didn't flinch when the door crashed open, and he didn't spill a single drop of his tea.  
     "Hey, geezer! I got a question!"  
     Ah, it was the young Princess Kumatora, gracing Wess with her regal and dignified presence. Or something like that. He glanced sidelong at her. She at least could have knocked the mud off her boots.  
     "And what would you like to know, princess," he muttered, raising his cup to his mouth.

 

     Duster asked, later, what the outburst had been. He said it sounded a lot like a choking fit followed by a deeply awkward conversation. The boy got a hundred extra pushups to do that night.


End file.
